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Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Flash Fiction Challenge: Cut It Out

It's time for yet another Terribleminds Flash Fiction Challenge. This weeks challenge is called "Game of Aspects." We were provided with 30 choices in three categories. We had to choose one from each category and write a story incorporating the aspects we chose. We were encouraged to use a d10 for added fun. (I used an online random number picker because my d10 wasn't nearby.)

It’s funny to me that funerals are so rarely like we see them on TV--everyone
wearing black veils and starched suits. Everything is pressed, smooth,
wrinkleless. Black umbrellas pop up like mushrooms in an unkempt lawn to
block the rain that so nicely puts the cherry on top of the shit sundae of a
situation. Life isn’t like that at all.

But it is raining today.

We all stand around the shining black box that holds our friend. Blank
faces paying their rote final respects to their coworker, father, son.
No one cries. Only two sets of eyes shine and threaten to
spill those hateful things over. My set meets the other--blue, surrounded
by long lashes. Red lines lace the whites supported by bags underneath.
Haley blinks and a single tear falls.

She quickly wipes it away with a gloved hand, her cheeks growing red. I
would feel embarrassed for her, but I can feel my own weakness raging against
my resolve, and that seeing that tear didn’t help. I take a deep breath
and glance up toward the sky, blinking to hold back the evidence of my
weakness.

I must have made a noise. One of my coworkers glances over at me with an
arched eyebrow.

“Is everything okay, Josh?”

“Uh...yeah...everything’s fine.”

I guess he realizes I’m sad. His face shifts. He looks uncertain,
like he doesn’t know what to say. I see his eyes rake from left to right,
as if the right words will be floating in the air just over my shoulder.

“Oh, uh...I’m sure Danny is in a better place. He’s...er...not in pain
anymore.”

That calls up images of Danny, lying in bed, body rail thin. By the end,
the cancer had eaten him almost entirely, and the chemo had taken the rest.
All the same, he laughed so hard when I brought him that knitted cap with
a neon mohawk attached.

A tear rolls down my cheek. Damn.

“Oh...dear...” My coworker coughs into his hand and scoots away from me.
He doesn’t want to be seen with the crying guy.

As they lower the casket, Danny’s daughter tosses in a handful of dirt.
Her face is as blank as the rest of them, and I notice the scar that
peeks up just above the front of her dress. So she got the surgery before
he died. Good for her.

After the service, Haley gives me a weak smile and places a hand on my
shoulder.

“I miss him, too,” she says.

"Some coworkers saw you crying. How embarrassing.”

“Fuck you. I wasn’t the only one crying.”

I shrug. “True. That’s why I scheduled an appointment for this afternoon.”

She hesitates as the news hits her. I hadn’t wanted her to know I’d made
the appointment, but I don’t care anymore. Between Danny’s death and
everything that happened before, I don’t feel like walking on eggshells
anymore.

“You’re going to let them turn you into one of those emotionless robots?
Did you see Danny’s daughter? It’s like she didn’t care at all!”

“She didn’t. That’s the point. And soon, I won’t either.
It’ll be so nice not to care anymore.”

I feel her fumble for my hand, try to take it, so I jerk it away. She
won’t get the comfort of comforting me.

“Hey, being left at the alter is no big. I’m just glad everything worked
out so well for you two.”

SMACK! I feel my head pop back as she decks me straight in the nose.
She stomps away, and I watch her go.

A few hours later, I’m in the doctor’s office, staring at black marker dots on
my chest. He stares at me with cold blue eyes as he explains the
procedure in a frank, flat voice.

“First, we’ll saw into your breast bone and break you open. Next, we’ll
sever the ventricles and cap them off--this should prevent the majority of any
blood loss. Next, we’ll install the synthetic organ with the blocking
chip--” he stopped when he saw my face. “Are...are you frightened?”

I blush as I admit it. “Yes, I’m afraid I am.”

“...Oh...uh...it’ll be okay. I’m licensed and everything. And if
you die, it’s not like you’ll notice.”

“...thanks.”

Before I know it, I’m in the surgery room, looking out at a thousand glowing
monitors. Then, I’m waking up in my hospital bed. The thick, white
gauze pads on my chest say much, but the silence in my head tells me more.
No worries. No feelings. It’s blank. Objective.
As sterile and white in there as the hospital room I’m staying in.

A knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Haley comes in with a bouquet of flowers with a balloon attached. When
was the last time I saw anyone bring flowers for someone in the hospital?
It’s an odd, antiquated practice from back when people needed to console
each other. Something about the brightly colored sex organs of plants
made people feel better. I feel like I might have understood it even a
few hours ago, but that part of me is long gone.

Haley takes a look at me and blushes, whirling away. I glance down and
realize that I’ve kicked the covers down and my gown has fallen open, revealing
my genitals.

“Oh. Does this bother you? I can cover up.”

She turns back and eyes me strangely. “No. Yes. It...it
doesn’t matter.” She hesitates before holding the flowers out to me and
adding, “I brought you these.”

“Yes. I see that.”

The flowers remain extended for a moment before her arm lowers them.
Tears brim up and begin pouring down her cheeks in big, fat drops.
How embarrassing for her.

Completely predictable with an obvious story arc, and still... fantastic. That is what you do with 1000 words, you are probably not going to reinvent anything, so tell someone a story they already know in a way that makes them go "wow".

Good construction, good viscerality... thats all I ever look for, I read that as smoothly as if I had written it (which is to say not so much "it was good by X or Y standard" but "I wouldn't be able to tell, cause I would have written it the same")

Yeah, I understood that the concept wasn't exactly original. Instead, I decided to try to sell it with the characters. The very first thought that came to mind when I saw what the number generator chose was "What, like Repo Men/Repo the Genetic Opera?" So my goal was actually to stay away from that concept.

I saw where it was going, but that isn't a bad thing, because I wanted to see how you would wrap it up. The transition from emotional to non-emotional was almost non-existent and threw me for a second even though I knew it was coming. Did you do that on purpose? Great story.

Thank you. Yeah, I knew that it wasn't the most original of concepts going in, but I consider these writing assignments to be practice for me. I hadn't written anything like this, so it was a fun experiment with characterization through action and dialog. That said, I'm glad that you enjoyed it.

I did actually do the sudden shift on purpose. I was going for contrast. I guess it worked?

This where you post your head dumpings. I don't mind disagreement if you're polite, well-thought-out, and civil. However, I decide what is and isn't acceptable. I reserve the right for my underground dwelling Comment Goblins to capture and devour any post they see fit.

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About Me

J. M. Dow's owner pressed the B button, preventing him from evolving into his final form. He's had a fascination with dark, weird things since he was a little kid sneaking into the living room to watch late-night reruns of Tales from the Crypt. He lives in Northwest Arkansas with his wife and weenie dog.